


a little bit dangerous (but baby that's how i want it)

by aquaexplicit



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: BDSM, Breathplay, Cisco's Powers, Control Issues, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom/sub, Eobard's Suit Was Not Meant For Harrisco Fear Play But Here We Are, Fear Play, M/M, Phone Sex, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, set towards the end of season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 11:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10616394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquaexplicit/pseuds/aquaexplicit
Summary: The first touch is light. Harry settles his thumb into the dimple of Cisco’s chin. He allows it to rest, gossamer soft, before brushing the back of his knuckles over Cisco’s throat. Cisco trembles and Harry can smell, taste, his fear. It’s intoxicating. Harry feels too big for his skin.“Do you want me to put it on?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> [NOW WITH A VERY VERY INCREDIBLE PODFIC DONE TO THE LOVELY AND HYPNOTIZING VOCAL STYLINGS OF KD-HEART. GO LISTEN AND MELT.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14028273)

There’s an ugly empty void in Harry’s guts. Zoom made the initial wound. Everything that’s happened since then, up to having Jesse safe and loving in his arms again, has only torn it more jagged. His time with Team Flash, connecting and saving and remembering how good it feels to do good, hadn’t cauterized his sickness. It’s festered into something gnawing and black as space.

Even now, with Jesse’s love tucked safely back in his pocket, with her sleeping safely in a cot next to his, the rot inside him is present. Dull but still aching. 

He can never get back what Zoom took from him. It wasn’t just his daughter or his heart or his world that was the victim of Zoom’s psychotic violence. Zoom took his control. Zoom took his power. 

Harry walks the corridors of this Earth’s S.T.A.R. Labs. Everything is colored chrome and cold. The filter over this world is dirtier than the sun that touches his earth and it makes him feel more at home, here, in the dark. 

It’s sick, the need that claws with blunt nails at his temples. His teeth ache to sink into something that’s his – his to own or destroy or grow. His to _control_. 

Absently, he’s led himself to the time vault. It’s open. 

 _It wasn’t absent. He knew what would be here_. 

Cisco is standing in front of the glass case they’ve moved Reverse Flash’s suit to, holding it behind doors to keep them safe from Eobard Thawne’s memory while retaining its power should they need it. 

This isn’t the first time Harry’s found Cisco here. Harry leans in the opening, watching with interest he doesn’t bother to hide anymore, as Cisco’s fingertips rest gentle on the glass. He’s so close his breath fogs the case. The top knob of Cisco’s spine is visible through the worn fabric of his t-shirt – no ridiculous second or third layer hiding his muscles. Harry licks his teeth. 

Their relationship is so much softer than when Harry first arrived. The residual terror and hatred Cisco carried for the man who wore Harry’s face on this Earth has faded. But it’s still there. The fear lurks tight beneath the softness of Cisco’s skin, cruel little hooks that are still buried inside.

Harry has a direct line to those hooks. He can pull them whenever he wants; used to do it constantly without realizing, then with a malicious sense of glee whenever he needed to lash out and _hurt_ something. Since he stole Barry’s speed and gave it to Zoom, Harry promised himself he wouldn’t so much as yank, but he missed it too much. Controlling Cisco’s fear when he couldn’t control his own was the only balm he’d found for his hurt.

As it turned out, Cisco was in the market for someone else to hold those reigns.

“Good evening, Ramon.” 

Cisco startles at Harry’s voice. There’s no shock, no shame, only a sheepish flush when Cisco turns to face him. If Harry had any doubt Cisco knew he was there, watching him, as absorbed in the line of his body as Cisco was absorbed in memories, the tremble of his fingers erases it. 

“Hey Harry,” Cisco says slowly, still in the pretense of being caught unaware. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up. I forget that you guys are staying here. You know, you and Jesse should really think about getting a house. And cable.” 

Harry pushes himself from the wall. Slides his hands in his pockets and takes a few measured, solid steps forward. It garners the same reaction it always does: Cisco stands a little straighter, breathes a little quicker for a moment, and swallows. Harry’s memorized the way Cisco’s throat works around the small terrors he can inflict. He’s as mesmerized by it now as he was when he first crowded into Cisco’s space, looming and angry and showing Cisco with every inch of his body he was someone to be feared for entirely separate reasons than the previous Dr. Wells. 

He takes another step forward.

Cisco rocks back, leaning with what could be construed as unease into the case, but Harry knows if he covered his mouth over the pulse jumping in Cisco’s throat, it wouldn’t be discomfort that would make Cisco squirm. 

“I know this looks super weird, but I was just thinking. Got some new tech percolating up in here.” Cisco taps his temple. 

“There’s no need to lie."

There isn’t. They’ve been playing this game too long and after being kidnapped, having another blow to his ability to hold anything tight and punishing in his hands, Harry is too tired to play. He feels weak with disuse. The only thing that has given him the sense of power to keep him moving has been Cisco’s dropped gazes. The sweat that gathers on Cisco’s upper lip when Harry moves too quick or too violent, warm salt beckoning Harry’s tongue. The quickness that speeds Cisco’s rabbit quick pulse, pumping blood hot and sweet, daring Harry’s teeth to dig in deep enough to spill it. 

Cisco gives up the ghost – _because Harry told him to_ – and doesn’t say anything else. He’s still and quiet and utterly aware of what’s happening. The perfect prey for an out of practice predator. 

Harry’s nails burn. Cisco’s skin glows water cool under the time vault lights, flowing and gentle.

“It’s fucked up, right?” Cisco says softly. 

It is. Harry’s just as twisted, though, if not more. “No.” 

Cisco laughs, too bitter for his youth and light. “Yeah it is. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Harry ignores it. Cisco is at the breaking point and Harry has no ethical qualms about being the razor that splits him open. He closes most of the distance between them. Cisco presses himself flush against the glass. If Harry could touch his heart, it would be vibrating at a speed Barry could only hope to reach. Harry’s stomach drops and flutters hot. 

“It was never like this with me and Dr. Wells,” Cisco tells him. It’s unnecessary. Harry knows. Cisco’s connection to Eobard Thawne was familial and broken rough with glass and disappointment and love. The thing with teeth between them is lust and heat and violence. Skin and bones and blood. 

Harry takes the final step into Cisco’s space. He counts five breaths, more than enough time for Cisco to tell him no, knowing Cisco won’t deny them this. Not now. Not when they both need it this much, not when Harry finally has enough strength to pin it down. 

The first touch is light. Harry settles his thumb into the dimple of Cisco’s chin. He allows it to rest, gossamer soft, before brushing the back of his knuckles over Cisco’s throat. Cisco trembles and Harry can smell, taste, his fear. It’s intoxicating. Harry feels too big for his skin. 

“Do you want me to put it on?” 

Cisco’s inhale is sharp, cutting into the exposed skin of Harry’s forearm. Their bodies are so close Harry can feel Cisco grow firm in his pants. Harry’s own dick tightens, but he can ignore it. He’s been ignoring it since the first time Cisco cowered from him.

“I’ll wear it for you. You just have to say yes.” 

Cisco takes another gulp and Harry feels for the first time the movement of Cisco’s animal fear. It’s so _tempting_ to suck Cisco’s pulse between his teeth and take him now, rough and dry and bruising. Cisco would let him. Cisco would open to him beautiful and broken. But Harry isn’t controlled by the blood coursing to his dick. Harry isn’t controlled by anything. 

“Say yes, Ramon.”

“No,” Cisco breathes. 

Rage fires through Harry’s synapses. He slots his knee between Cisco’s thighs, presses his knuckles against Cisco’s throat with the barest increase of pressure, and Cisco grows violently hard. Harry clenches and unclenches his jaw.

“This is going to happen exactly how you want it,” Harry says sharply. He means to be reassuring, but he’s starving, desperate. He needs Cisco to bend before he breaks. “I can give you everything you need but right now, this first time, you have to say yes. I can’t do it for you unless you say yes now.” 

Cisco’s eyes are wet with fear and need. He’s just as hard up for it as Harry, just as hungry to be owned as Harry is to own him. But Harry can’t just rip inside. Not tonight. Cisco has to give in to Harry’s power for the control to be as consuming as they both need it to be. 

“Harry.” Cisco’s voice is weak and dry. Harry’s name is rasped like Cisco’s throat is cut with gravel. 

“Tell me yes, Cisco.”

And that does it. Harry cuts the tenuous strings keeping Cisco’s want trussed in shame and it spills over both of them, slick and slippery and blinding. Cisco comes alive against him and Harry knows he could snuff the living flame out in an instant. His blood boils against his bones and his heart thunders. He feels _power_ like he hasn’t in an entire lifetime. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Cisco says against his mouth. Harry covers Cisco’s throat with his palm, squeezing gentle but with the darkest of promises, thumb burning as Cisco’s pulse beats against it. He watches the terror overtake Cisco’s gaze before dipping down to press their lips together.

Cisco’s mouth is a shaking fault line against Harry’s own. Harry wants to bruise it, _devour_ it, tear the soft flesh and stain his own skin with Cisco’s blood. There is so much _need_ in the way Cisco’s fingers claw at his chest. Harry feels like he's breaking, like he’ll suck pieces of himself from Cisco’s hands later. It’s a thrill shock to his heart. He’s alive for the first time in years. 

Then Cisco’s desperate fingers are pushing him _away_ instead of pulling him closer. Harry barely has a moment to scrape his teeth over Cisco’s full bottom lip before Cisco is scrambling out from under him. 

Cisco runs. Harry _aches_ , but doesn’t chase. He slams his palms into the glass case. The suit, untouched, taunts him. 

- 

An hour later, Harry is sitting with his back against the time vault wall. The chill has leeched away most of the warmth from his skin but his spine still buzzes with heat. His stomach feels empty and cold. He hasn't been able to bring himself back to the lab he's currently calling home. If Jesse has woken up she hasn't come to look for him and he won't go back to her until the raw of this hurt has eased. He doesn't want her to see him so clearly sick with it.

Cisco rejected them like Harry was a foreign virus snaking into his blood. That's exactly what Harry is, what Harry wants, but Cisco does too. Harry has seen it in too many hot glances, felt it in too many tentative but hungry touches. Cisco has bared his throat and vulnerability too many times.

Cisco is terrified. Of course he is. But it doesn't help Harry if Cisco doesn't let him inflict and soothe and control that terror. It doesn't give either of them what they crave.

His phone rings and he's sure it's Jesse, too lazy to search the lab for him, or Barry, in need of his mentor, a role which Harry is both proud and loathed to fill. It makes him a better man but it's not enough. He's surprised to see Cisco's number when he pulls the phone from his pocket. He expected Cisco to skirt around him awkwardly for at least a day before trying to talk through the tension. Harry answers without hesitation.

"Ramon."

A few beats of nothing but Cisco's breathing. Harry wonders how fast Cisco's heart is beating.

"I didn't know if you'd still be up."

"You knew."

Harry can practically feel Cisco's hand tense awkwardly. He can picture Cisco sitting cross legged on the couch - in his bed - still in the same clothes, hair disheveled, eyes dark and tired.

"I guess I owe you an explanation?"

They both know Cisco owes Harry nothing unless he wants to. Harry bites anyway. He wants Cisco's next words too much.

"Did it frighten you?"

"No," Cisco lies, petulant. Despite himself, Harry smiles. "Do you remember how we talked about my trigger? You're the one who helped me figure it out."

Harry thought Cisco had that under more control. He sits straighter, realizing – _stupid_ , _he should’ve known_. "What did you vibe?"

"Us."

Harry takes a quick breath before asking again, "What did you vibe?"

"We were - it was dark. I think it was night. It was warm and we were somewhere I've never seen, which I think means you and Jesse find your own place. Congrats."

A look into the future. Their future. Harry's skin pulls tight in anticipation even though he knows, he _knows_ , what Cisco saw. He sees it himself when the frustration of it all becomes too much, when the fear and helplessness and confusion swirl too quickly and threaten to sunder the world. He sees it when he dreams.

"What was I doing, Ramon?"

Cisco's breath stutters. "You were wearing it," Cisco says low, like a secret, and Harry knows Cisco is hard. He settles his own palm between his legs with only a tease of pressure. "I think we made some modifications."

"Why?" Harry asks. When Cisco doesn't immediately respond, Harry drops and sharpens his tone. "What was I doing in the suit, Cisco?"

"Fucking me," Cisco says desperately.

Harry hisses as his palm flattens over his cock. His fingers feel too hard, the pressure the wrong side of sharp, but Cisco's breathy pants on the other side of the phone are impossible to resist. "How?" Harry asks. "Tell me everything."

"It was too much," Cisco says, a little wet and a little drunk. Harry knows Cisco's not touching himself yet but he will as soon as Harry tells him to. If Harry tells him to. "I could feel you, the present you, but I could feel the future you too. It felt like everything was happening at once but there was only one of me to take it all."

Harry grinds into the palm of his hand. "Tell me about the vibe. How did it feel?"

"Really?” Cisco is angling for incredulous but he’s too high strung on desperation. “I never figured you for a phone sex kind of guy, Harry.” 

Harry’s not. He doesn’t want to hear Cisco talk; he wants to hear Cisco scream and taste the reverberations. But maybe this is what Cisco needs. To take the leap with a safety net before he can let Harry flay him completely. It’s not ideal, but Harry can work with this. It feels close enough to having Cisco under his thumb without actually being able to feel Cisco’s bones.

“How was I fucking you?” 

Cisco hesitates but gives in, sweet and pliant. “I was – I was on my knees and you were behind me. It was.” Cisco swallows. Harry can almost feel his body, burning hot with shame and arousal. “You were in me so _deep_. I could feel you in my guts and it felt like I was suffocating."

Cisco sounds so close to the edge, all Harry would have to do is say the right word, make the right noise. But it's not enough. He needs every shock of pleasure, including the final one, to be under his control.

"Don't touch yourself," Harry says, and Cisco makes the most beautiful choked noise. He obeys though. He bows. "How did the suit feel against you?"

"It was hot," Cisco says hoarsely. “My skin was so sensitive. I felt like I was buzzing, made of electricity. Every time the suit rubbed against me I felt like I was on fire.” 

There are a hundred ways Harry could set Cisco’s skin alight. He could use his hand, paint the sensitivity into Cisco’s body; he could use his belt, a paddle, a cane. Harry lets the possibilities wash over him. 

“I hurt everywhere. My jaw. My shoulders and thighs. I don’t know how long you had me on my hands and knees but it must’ve been - I think it’d been hours.”

“You must’ve been so good,” Harry rewards him, and is rewarded in turn with Cisco’s groan. “Where else did I hurt you? 

“My throat was raw. I think from your hands. And from screaming.” Harry can imagine it beginning, curling his hands around Cisco’s throat, holding until terror overtook rationale in his brain. “My nipples felt so sore. You kept digging your nails into them and it was – fuck, Harry. Come _on_.”

Cisco has been so good. Harry wants to give him this.

 “Touch them,” Harry says. Cisco groans in thanks. His next noise is lower, more pained, and Harry can imagine Cisco’s nails sinking cruel into his own flesh. “Pull them hard. Make them sore.”

“What are you doing?” Cisco pants, voice wet and thick. Harry wonders if the tears have spilled yet, making Cisco’s cheeks glisten and shine. 

“I’m sitting in front of the suit. Watching myself in the glass.” Cisco curses harshly. “I’m unbuttoning my pants, sliding my hand inside – ” Harry hisses as his hand finally curls around himself. “I’m stroking myself.” 

“Let me – tell me to.” 

Not yet. Not _yet_.

“One hand,” Harry breathes. “Rub yourself over your pants with one hand. Keep pinching your chest with the other one. Hard, Cisco. You’re going to have to show me how sore you made yourself.” 

“Will you wear it? When I show you, will you – ”

“Of course I will.” 

Harry watches himself in the reflection of the glass case. He’s tinted yellow in the glare of the suit, blue under the shade of the light. Smeared like something not quite human. His gazes drifts closed at Cisco’s long, low whine. He bucks into his own punishing grip.

“I’ll wear it while I have my hands around your throat,” Harry promises. “When I put you on your knees. When I make you cry.” 

“It hurts, Harry.” 

Harry’s nerves are on fire. He has Cisco’s pain in the palm of his hand and it’s so much more intoxicating than the little games they’ve been playing.

“That means you’re doing good. You can wrap your hand around your cock now, but don’t stop pinching.” 

“Fuck.” 

Harry knows Cisco is obeying but it’s not the same as seeing it, molding it with his hands instead of just his voice. He considers telling Cisco he’s not allowed to finish until he comes to the labs and lets Harry do it himself. But Cisco’s too caught up in the fantasy and Harry doesn’t feel particularly patient. Cisco would do it though. Harry knows he would. 

Feeling secure in that knowledge, feeling safe and sure, emotions so foreign to him now, Harry can allow the game to play out.

“Are you still touching?” Cisco asks.

“Yes.” Harry gives himself a long, particularly hard stroke. He spreads the precum at his tip with his thumb and imagines rubbing it into Cisco’s tongue. “And I’m still looking at the suit. How did I look in it? In the vibe? What did it do to you to see me in it?”

“You looked like - you looked wild. Your hair and your face and the way you moved, the _sounds_ you made – and the way your hands felt on me. You were so strong and then you – you put your hands around my neck – and I thought, it felt like – ” 

Harry is fucking into his fist and, judging by Cisco’s stuttering moans, Cisco is doing the same. “What did feel like? What did you think?” 

Cisco’s only answer is another desperate keen. Then Harry asks, “What were you afraid of?”

It’s over. 

His name sounds like a prayer and a damnation as Cisco groans it, coming down hard and quick. Harry would admonish him for coming without permission but he spills only a few moments after. 

They pant in unison into the phone.

“Okay. Wow,” Cisco says. He sounds dizzy and out of breath. “Dios mio, wow. Who would’ve thought phone sex with Harrison Wells would be that hot.”

“Ramon.”

“Holy Hannah. I just had phone sex with Harrison Wells. Kinky, fucked up phone sex.”

“Calm down, Ramon. Breathe.” Cisco’s breathing evens. “I want you to clean yourself up. Drink a glass of water and get some sleep. Tomorrow, be here early.”

“What’s happening tomorrow?” 

“You’re going to show me the evidence of how well you obeyed tonight.”

Cisco inhales sharply. “Are you going to – ” He stops himself, changing directions. Harry knows what he’s going to ask anyway. Cisco should know the answer. “How much earlier should I get there than everyone else?”

“Be here by 7:00 AM. Sharp.”

“That sounds disgusting.”

“Ramon.”

"I’ll be there. 7:00 AM. Sharp.” A beat. “Does the world have coffee at 7:00 AM?”

“See you in the morning, Ramon.” 

Harry hangs up. He takes several deep, shuddering breaths to steady himself. It’s been decades since he’s come all over himself like an inexperienced teenager. He’ll have to find a way to clean his pants or sneak a change of clothes while Jesse is sleeping. Then.

Then.

Staring into the grimy yellow of the Reverse-Flash suit, Harry licks his lips. Harry’s stomach is still. He feels full and warm blooded. An animal again, with teeth and claws, in the place of something withered. He has more than enough time to modify the suit. He’ll be ready long before morning. Cisco won’t be. 

He catches his reflection in the glass case and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Me @ me after naming my darkest Harrisco fic with an Ariana Grande song: she really did THAT!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [a little bit dangerous (but baby that's how i want it) [podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14028273) by [KD reads (KDHeart)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KDHeart/pseuds/KD%20reads)




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